I once disembarked the tram at Bridge Road to wafts of Cussons Imperial Leather soap from the factory. But times have well and truly changed.
South Yarra has pretty much everything you’d want in a suburb,but I’m not sure I belong here.
My sons’ enthusiasm gave me pause to think about my own happy childhood in Willy. But its newfound popularity comes with a dispiriting consequence.
Port Melbourne isn’t as affluent as Albert Park or as hip as St Kilda,but it has an honesty that embraces public housing,multimillion-dollar apartments and everything in between.
Despite being home to Melbourne icons the Royal Show,Masterchef studios and the Maribyrnong River,Ascot Vale has a slight identity crisis.
Sure,we sometimes find an abandoned weapons cache during renovations,but in Sunshine West these days you’re more likely to bump into backyard chickens on the loose than crims and killers.
Divided up as if it were the spoils of a suburban turf war,my ’burb’s bigger neighbours of Bentleigh,Carnegie and Caulfield South have claimed their lion’s share of the land.
Footscray is a place layered with lore. It’s a multifarious wonderland where the Anglo heteronormative presence is a side dish to what’s really going on.
In this homely pocket of Melbourne,oodle ownership is essential and everyone has a view on the conflict dividing the community.
Then I hit my 30s and began thinking about buying a home and entombing my own child in the comfortable silence of suburbia. Suddenly,Mount Waverley didn’t seem so bad.
With no schools,pubs or noise,little disturbs the expected peace of this inner-city suburb’s streets – at least until the Barmy Army is in town or Collingwood plays at the MCG.